


Recovery

by Third_Phoenix



Category: Agent Pendergast Series - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Third_Phoenix/pseuds/Third_Phoenix
Summary: Constance is trying to cope with the aftermath of Diogenes.





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at fanfiction, written nearly eight years ago. It's been edited slightly, but is, essentially, how it was. I'm bringing all my old fictions over from fanfiction.net. So, please enjoy this relic.

Constance heard the soft knock on her bedroom door, but she was hoping to avoid Aloysius’s prying questions and piercing stares. When she gave no acknowledgement, the door was silently opened. He stood in the doorway, unsurety rolling from his body; despite her deep-seated love for the man, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Constance.” That Southern drawl always sent a course of pleasure through her body, intensified when he used her name.

A shiver wracked through her body. Since her encounter with Diogenes, she couldn’t seem to shake these pervasive, erotic thoughts. Despite his cruelty, he seemed to have awakened this beast within her, the passion that he demonstrated replaying in her mind every night.

“I believed we need to talk,” he pressed.

She finally managed to look into his silvery-blue eyes. His gaze was intoxicating; it was like he was peering at your soul, learning every deep, dark secret you kept. It was so very difficult to hold eye contact, but she was determined to do so. She needed him to believe that she wasn’t broken.

“I’m sorry, Aloysius. I didn’t want to bother you with my troubles while you have so many of your own.” It was the truth, or at least some of it. If pure honesty would fall from her lips, she would tell him how she was so deeply confused by these new urges she felt, and how every time she looked at him, despite the strong resemblance to Diogenes, all thoughts in her head turned impure as quickly as his words turned to molasses.

“We don’t ever need to discuss what happened if you don’t want to, Constance. But I need to know you’re alright.” He stepped more fully into the room, and Constance finally took notice of the closed bedroom door; it would be very difficult to remove herself from this situation without drawing more of wedge between them. 

“I’ve always been honest with you, Aloysius.” For the most part.

“You seem to be retreating inside yourself more and more each day. I…I can’t lose you, too.”

Constance’s eyes widened, shocked to find pain registered over his normally stoic features. My god, there were actual tears brimming in his eyes. Could it be, after all this time, he finally found himself attached to her? Body coursing with unsurety, she sat down heavily on the bed.

Prendergast’s fingers twitched briefly at his side before he slowly strode over to the bed. Sitting down beside her, he lowered his head to his hands, body going totally still. When he finally spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

“You blame me. I blame myself.” It was so quiet, Constance had to lean closer to him to hear. “I couldn’t protect you from Diogenes. It’s the reason you can’t look me in the eyes, why you can’t be alone in a room with me.” He finally picked his head up, locking his mesmerizing eyes onto hers. “Constance, I am so sorry for what he did to you.”

All this time she thought he had blamed her, yet here he was, placing everything onto his own shoulders. Boldly, she took one of his cold hands into her own and turned his face towards her with the other; the surprise at her courageous move was evident on his face.

“Listen to me, Aloysius: it was not your fault. It wasn’t D’Agosta’s fault, or Wren’s fault, or Proctor’s. It was my fault. Mine and his. I allowed Diogenes to keep returning. I foolishly bought into his gifts, his poetry, his lies. I allowed him to---” she faltered, searching for the courage to say it. “I willingly gave myself to him. Please don’t blame yourself.”

She hoped that the flicker in his eyes meant that he was feeling the intensity between them, noticed how their bodies seemed to magnetically move closer towards each other. But all of a sudden, he shook his head, breaking whatever was frozen between them. His hand slipped from hers as he stood from the bed.

He paced the room, his black suit blending in the black sky through the open window. She wished he would either say what was on his mind or leave; watching him frantically pace the room made her feel cagey and nervous.

“What secrets lie in your head, Constance?” His silky voice caught her attention.

“We all have secrets, Aloysius. As one who values privacy as much as you do, you should respect mine.”

“Lately I’ve noticed a glint in your eye that’s never been there before. A new swagger to your walk. There’s a passion burning within you, Constance. I’m forced to assume it all has something to do with Diogenes.”

Anger welled up hot and fast inside her, before quickly dissipating into defeat. What was the point in lying? “You’re right. It has everything to do with Diogenes. Ever since he---” she paused, not wanting to be crass but also not wanting to hold back. “Ever since I gave myself to him, allowed myself, for the first time, to be as close to another human body as you physically can be, it’s all I can think about. Everything was so intense. It’s as if I can still feel everything throughout my body, and to be perfectly honest with you, I like it. And I want more.”

She took a step towards him, his frame stiffening noticeably. “I see,” came his icy response.

“You wanted the truth, and I gave it to you. Now, I want you to give me something.”

“And what would that be?” His tone, while still buttery, was shaky.

“I need to know how you truly feel about me, Aloysius.” She had moved so close to him, their bodies just barely touching; electricity was surging between them. Still waiting for his response, she started into silvery eyes, seeing something she had never seen before: passion.

In a swift movement, Pendergast took Constance’s face in his hands and brought his mouth down to hers. His lips were soft and warm, and he tasted faintly of something like peppermint and whiskey. His long, slender fingers raked through her hair as he pulled her closer, her white dress clashing ridiculously against his black suit. As quickly as it happened, he broke away, his breathing erratic as he pushed her away from him.

Constance readied herself for the rejection she was sure to come. Fear and arousal were surging from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck; the same blood that coursed through Diogenes pumped in Aloysius’s veins; how could she ever trust another human being again, let alone a Pendergast?

“I’m so sorry, Constance.” He brought his hand to his mouth, eyes wide with shock. It looked like he was wiping their kiss from his lips. “You know we can’t do this.”

Embarrassment surged inside her, quickly extinguished by a throbbing, aching want. Grasping his tie, she pulled him down towards her, that beast inside roaring from within. “You wanted that as desperately as I did. I want you, Aloysius.”

Again, he pulled away from her. “My dear, you’re confused. My brother took something irreplaceable from you, and continuing this charade is not going to get it back. I can’t pretend to be a better version of Diogenes for you.”

“I don’t want anything back, I don’t need anything repaired. I want to explore. With you. I want you to show me what it can be like, with trust and love. There aren’t two people in this world who need each other as much as you and I do at this moment.” She could see his walls crumbling down, his body quaking slightly.

She moved closer to him, but he turned his head away in anticipation of another kiss. But that wasn’t what she was after; her hands had found their way to his belt. Just as she began to unbuckle it, Pendergast’s strong hands stilled their movement, eyes shining as he stared down at her.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

Again, he lowered his mouth to hers, and Constance reveled in the sweet taste of his lips. Fire shot from her chest down to her core when she felt him expertly slip his cool tongue into her mouth. Slowly, he pushed his body into hers, gently easing her backwards, his hands roaming all the while. 

When her back hit the wall, she felt him pin her arms down to her sides, giving himself free reign over her body. She had only managed to slip his suit jacket from his shoulders before he ceased her movements; a roil of alarm rocked through her as she remembered Diogenes smoothly settling himself on top of her, also hindering her movements. But she forced herself to remember, both of these eyes are blue.

Her heart skipped a beat when she felt him, hard against her lower stomach; so, he does feel. A hissing intake of breath sounded from her mouth as he began to grind his thigh against her, his mouth peppering kisses along her slender neck. When he hit a particularly pleasurable spot, a moan forced its way from her mouth, and she bit down gently on his earlobe. Encouraged, he pressed his thigh more firmly into, and she couldn’t help but grind herself against him. This seemed to do the trick for him; she felt him grow even harder against her.

All too suddenly, he backed off, releasing the hold he had on her wrists. With surprising roughness, he grasped her face, turning her head to bring her ear closer to his reddened lips. As his breath hit her ear, fear pooled in the base of Constance’s spine, remembering how Diogenes’s hot breath had whispered line of poetry to her, his venomous tongue betraying her every step of the way.

“Constance,” he moaned, “I’m sorry for being so urgent; I’ve wanted this longer than I even lead myself to believe. I’ll try to slow down, to show you how sensual it can be.”

Not wanting him to view her as a fragile flower any longer, and despite the apprehension she was feeling, she grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him closer, hand wandering over the throbbing silk of his pants. The look of pure pleasure that overtook his features was nearly enough to push Constance over the edge. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, as he slowly rocked his hips against her palm.

Abruptly, his eyes flew open. Grasping the back of her thighs as if she weighed nothing, he placed her down on the long dresser, her hips now level with his. She began hitching up her dress, but his hands settled on top of hers, stilling them halfway up her thighs.

“Hold on just a while longer,” he urged. His voice was still that slow drawl that sent shivers down her body, but now it was slightly breathy, a choke of lust somewhere in his throat. “There’s so much more to it.” His fingers slid over the buttons of her dress, slowly undoing them one by one. “Believe me, it’s worth the wait.”

Leaning back on her palms, the wood firm and grounding beneath her, she allowed Pendergast to continue undoing the buttons. As his long fingers finished their path down the row, the swell of her breasts exposed, a smile graced his lips; it was such a beautiful sight to see the stoic agent actually smiling. He slid the dress over her head, leaving her shivering in her slip.

With trembling fingers, she began to reciprocate, undoing the buttons of his crisp button-up. Sensing his resistance, she grasped his wrists, looking him in the eyes. “I show you, you show me.”

He loosened in her grasp, silently permitting her to continue. They were silent for a few tense moments, basking in the intimacy of undressing one another. Constance was left in only her panties, while Pendergast was bare from the waist up.

Her eyes wandered over the numerous scars that littered his pale torso, muscles delightfully defined. Her hands slid over the smooth muscles of his stomach, up to his surprisingly toned chest as he dipped down to gently take a nipple into his mouth. As her fingernails grazed over a particularly ugly scar over is ribcage, his teeth bit down aggressively on her breast, causing her to skid away from him with a whimper.

“Constance, my dear, I’m so very sorry. It’s…been a long time since I’ve found myself in this situation. Every time you touch me it’s…overwhelming.”

Her stomach sank, hearing his words like declaration of rejection. “You don’t trust me,” she mumbled, hands dropping from his cool skin.

“I trust you more than anyone else on this Earth. I---” he trailed off, breaking eye contact. For a heart-stopping moment, she believed he was going to confess love.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She placed her hand on the back of his head, pulling him in for a deep kiss. As her hands began roaming his bare shoulders, she was shocked to feel him grasp her left wrist, bringing her hand to the front of his pants.

He began thrusting against her urgently, moaning deeply against her mouth. Just as he began bucking so quickly that Constance thought he would finish, he pulled away, a sheepish smile overtaking his mouth; he did almost get off.

She offered a deviant smile as she guided his own hand to her panties, delighting in the feeling of his fingers sliding over the silky material. Making quick eye contact, he dropped to his knees and removed her panties, licking agonizingly slow. Every nerve in Constance’s body was sent into overdrive; had Diogenes gave her this gift, she never would have lasted this long making a move on Pendergast.

Watching the muscles in his back flex as he moved, his hands holding her hips still as he tasted every inch of her, she ran her fingers through his soft, blond hair, pulling lightly. Tongue flicking faster, she bucked her hips against him, nearing the edge at an alarming pace. Just as she was about to topple over, he stopped, sitting back on his knees.

“You show me yours, I show you mine.” His eyes were sparkling like diamonds as he stood, a smirk plastered over his mouth.

Wrapping her legs around his hips, she flung her arms around his neck and shifted from the dresser to his body, biting his lower lip in a rough kiss. “Bed. Now.”

He walked swiftly over to the bed, bracing himself on one hand as he kneeled, lowering her down with a soft bounce onto the mattress. Hot breath hit her lips, neck, collarbones, his own lips frustratingly never making direct contact; a tingling sensation broke out over Constance’s skin everywhere he didn’t touch. Finally settling on top of her, his mouth attacked her neck, kissing slow and deep. Her body vibrated with anticipation as his hand slid to her core, her muscles contracting as she waited with bated breath.

“May I?” he asked, finger stopped directly at her entrance. Too shy to form the words, Constance simply lifted her hips, urging him inside her. Pendergast’s smile was beautiful as he slipped one, and then two, fingers inside of her, pumping in and out at a torturously slow pace. Settling at her side, he kissed her gently, his erection pressing against Constance’s outer thigh.

She broke the death grip she apparently had on the bedsheets and gingerly grazed the front of his pants. To her absolute delight, Pendergast assisted her, undoing his belt and whipping it effortlessly from the loops. Her shaky fingers managed to open the button and drag the zipper down before finally grazing over his boxer briefs. A soft gasp escaped him, his fingers stilling for the briefest of seconds, before she slipped her hand inside, grasping him in her fist.

He wasn’t quite as large as Diogenes, but that comforted Constance. Still, the weight of him in her bare hand was erotic in its own; she couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Her strokes up and down his shaft were slow and tentative, her ears tuned in to the barely audible gasps and whispery moans that left him, focusing on which movements elicited a better response.

When his thumb began rolling small circles over her tiny bundle of nerves, she nearly screamed in pleasure. A throb of erotic response pulsed through his shaft, a louder groan finally escaping him; he responded best to her own reactions. Despite the increasing rate of his thrusting hips, Constance was losing focus, simply holding him in her hand as he pushed her towards the edge, fingers moving in and out at a faster rate. Rolling her head towards him, hand still weakly jerking him off, she clashed her mouth to his. He eagerly returned the kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth as she came around his fingers, a choked moan finding its way into his mouth as she shook and shuddered.

His movements began to slow, fingers lightly teasing as she shivered and tried to catch her breath. That certainly didn’t happen with Diogenes. Finally regaining control, Constance rolled over, pinning Pendergast beneath her on his back. Grasping his hands, she held them above his head, gaze steady on his lust-blown eyes.

“Keep your hands above your head,” she ordered, delighted in the flicker of amusement and arousal she saw.

“As you wish.” He grasped the rungs of the headboard, curious eyes watching her trail kisses down his body.

She could barely breathe as she dragged his pants and boxers down his legs, hands feeling the hard muscles beneath. His entire body was tense, his hands balled into fists above his head; only the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed his excitement. That, and his painfully hard erection. For her own part, Constance couldn’t recall ever being this nervous.

Slowly, she slid her tongue up his length, encouraged when Pendergast reacted instantly, his hips rising ever-so-slightly from the mattress. Taking it further, she took the head in, using one of her hands to continue stroking. She continued like this for a few moments before taking a deep breath and sliding him all the way into her mouth. The quick intake of breath, followed by a surprisingly guttural moan, told her all that she needed to know: she was doing this correctly.

When she choked, tears welling up in her eyes, Pendergast disobiently moved his hands, cupping her jaw and easing her off of him. “Do not feel the need to go so fast, my dear. Explore. Everything you’re doing feels simply amazing.”

Licking him again, she took his advice and explored his body, pressing kisses to his hip bones, returning her mouth to him here and there. The loving strokes of his fingers through her hair calmed her, allowed her to feel the sensuality of what she was doing to his body.

Finding a rhythm that worked for both of them, she focused on her task, one hand following her mouth while the other was pressed down over Pendergast, holding him still and keeping firm contact. Again, Pendergast stopped her, his breathing harsh and ragged. He rolled her onto her back, positioning himself on top of her before wrapping them both in the comfort of a quilt.

“Are you absolutely sure, Constance?” The lust was still in his eyes, but an overwhelming layer of caring and love could be seen beneath. “I don’t wish to be another regret. Another monster.” The honey of his voice was mingling with fear.

“It should have been you.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him, pulling him closer in a tight hug. “Just make this time worth it. Please.”

He responded to her words with a gentle kiss, backing off before kissing her again, this time a bit more urgently. He eased into her slowly, gauging her reaction. The long, low moan of pleasure hid the intake of breath: it burned a little, but the pleasure overrode the pain. Pendergast propped himself on his forearms, intensely watching her face for any sign that he should stop. She roamed her hands over his lean, muscular body, delighted by the tiny jerks of muscle as he gently moved in and out of her gently.

A spark of pleasure ignited in her body as he shifted, hitting a spot deep inside her. Digging her fingernails into his back, she encouraged him to go faster, harder. Closing his eyes, he leaned down for a kiss before dropping his head into the crook of her neck.

He was thrusting faster now, one hand massaging her breasts as her own hips reciprocated his thrusts. Gripping his shoulders, careful to avoid any scars, she began mumbling nonsensical words as inconceivable pleasure washed over her. His heart, normally so slow and calm, was pounding against her chest; tensing her muscles, she fought against her orgasm, never wanting this feeling, this connection, to end.

“Let go, Constance,” came his honeyed voice, begging her to give herself over completely. With a thrust that hit her deep inside, his pubic bone grinding against her, she let go: every muscle seemed to contract at once, her body writhing as her hips bucked in an uncoordinated manner, pure pleasure washing through her body, exploding from her spine and moving in every direction. 

Pendergast propped himself above her, eyes locked onto the sight of her release beneath him. Giving a few more hard, deep thrusts, he tensed as well, eyes shut tightly as he finally released audible moans, the sounds hitting Constance even as she came down. 

Warm waves rolled through her body as she tried to catch her breath, finally going limp beneath him as he eased himself out of her. A sinking feeling of longing accompanied his departure; she gripped his back, damp with sweat, and held him close. Just as she was about to release him, feeling silly at this needy show of affection, her chest bloomed with warmth when his arms ensnared themselves around her.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“I think we both needed this. I just wish we would have done this sooner.” He broke away from her, lying down by her side. “You’re a remarkable woman, Constance.”

“You don’t need to lay the charm on me, Aloysius. I know what I am. A fre---”

Pendergast cut her off, placing a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

A tear rolled down Constance’s cheek, disbelief washing through her. “Aloysius…”

“I love you.” He kissed her again, the passion causing another flow of tears. His own tears, hot and unexpected, fell onto her face, mingling with her own as she returned the words.

Whatever she was expecting tonight, it wasn’t this warm, domestic embrace she found herself in now. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into him; this time, nothing her mind conjured up could frighten her.


End file.
